I had only wanted
by yasiko
Summary: this is a revision of Desecrated. DMHP. He wanted the pain to stop, the cuts to heal, and the memory gone... The blood under my feet turned cold and I stepped away, leaving small bloody foot prints...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

(This is a revised version of my past and unfinished story _Desecrated _, this one will be updated and hopefully finished. )

(it comes in two Pov. Draco's and Harry's, they are easy to tell who is who, so I'm not gonna tell you.)

Chapter One: I Had Only Wanted…

He wanted to scream, his voice heard through the stone walls.

Tear out his hair, have the silky strands fall to his bare feet.

Pound his fists into the brick, the stone ripping at skin.

Sink his nails into warm flesh, and feel the wet of fresh blood of another on his hands.

He wanted the pain to stop, the cuts to heal, and the memory gone.

Curled up on the dirty stone-cold floor, Draco Malfoy, starved, naked, beaten and bleeding, cried into his shaking bloody hands. Blood smeared his nose and forehead, and his check had blossomed into a nice purple bruise. Slowly he uncurled himself, and shakily crawled across the blood and semen covered floor to the bed, then used it to pull himself up. Still sobbing, tears spilling off his face like a waterfall, he limped over to the wide open door, the keys hanging from the lock. He never looked back, not even one last look at the blood smeared, desecrated, dead body of his father lying on the bed. No once regretted what he had done. Stumbling out of the room, he heard the shouts from above, the screaming of spells and curses, and he knew. They had finally come.

But too late.

Remus Lupin darted down the stairs, crashing into brick walls, using them to push him further forward. He had to be here somewhere, he had to be. He kept telling himself, never letting his mind slip from the thought that he was in the house, somewhere.

" Draco!" he called out, his voice wavering as he barreled into the dungeon, shoving open doors, kicking in locks, tears of fear filmed his eyes.

" Draco!" he'd checked the bedrooms, the kitchen, the stables, and any other place a young man could hide. Nothing. Not ever a body. He began to panic, his heart rate sky rocketing, and as he burst open another door just to see it empty, he slumped against the doorframe, pounding his fist against the wall, " god damn it." he hissed through clenched teeth, " we're to late."

He could hear him now, wanting to go to him, but not having the strength, Draco had fallen partway down the long hallway, obscured by darkness, all he heard was Lupins desperate cries. He wanted to be found, to be saved from the cold, and the pain. Be didn't want to be seen. For them to know what had happened to him. Then he heard the approaching footsteps, the creaking of a door being pushed open, and the strangled gasp of disgust, the thud as a body dropped to the ground, and the splash of stomach contents hitting the stone floor. He turned away from the sound, curling tighter into himself.

Remus, after emptying his stomach onto the floor, stood up on shaky knees and slammed the door shut. Never wanting to see that gruesome picture again.

Hoarsely he called out once more, " Draco? please god tell me your alive…"

"But I don't want to be" a quite tear-filled voice said from his left, into the dark empty hall. He took a step forward. "Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm here to help you; do you know who was in that room over there?"

"Among all the things I've lost, my mind is not one of them, despite my pleas." A bitter, louder voice said from the shadows.

"Good, then you won't mind if I porkey you to the hospital wing?"

A quite laugh, " do I have a choice?"

There was a steady dripping sound coming from Draco, it was eerie in their ignorance.

"its that, or I carry you upstairs to have another auror take you."

A pause, " throw me the port-key."

There was a soft click as the coin that severed as a porkey landed on the stone floor.

" there. This sends you straight to the hospital wing, where Snape, madam Pomfrey and Dumbledor are all waiting." Remus said, with a teachers hard but informative voice, " if you have any problems just let go of the porkey, and then touch it again, and it'll send you straight back to me, okay?"

A quite pause in the darkness then, " okay…"

There was shuffling, the sound of skin running along the floor then the slide of metal on stone, and he was gone. Remus glanced over at where Draco had been seconds before, feeling the urge to follow after build inside him, but he turned away, and walked, this time slowly, back up the stairs to where the aurors were cleaning out the house. He bumped into moody, and told him to check the dungeon, far corner, for what they were all looking for.

Moody glanced up at him from Narissa Malfoys body, which had been found in the master bedchamber. " a body?"

Remus shuddered, " What used to be one."

"What of the son?"

"Being cared for."

Moody's magical eye picked a spot over Remus's shoulder, " Is he alright?"

Remus stared at the perfectly manicured nails of the life-less body before him, "mentally, he appears to be cracked, not broken. Physically…." He paused and closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand, "he never let me see him, always kept to the dark, by the condition of the bedroom…." He shuddered, "he's in pretty bad shape…"

"Bedroom? You were in the dungeon…"

Remus cleared his throat, glancing away, "… I know…"

Bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood

The feel of cold fingers on his overheated skin, the murmur of distressed voices on his sensitive ears, the rough tingle of fabric, and the wet hotness of blood was all Draco was aware of as he was carried from the stone floor of the hospital wing to one of the beds by Snape and madam Pomfrey. Once he had touched the coin, his body had been deposited with a horrid thud, on the cold floor of the hospital wing. With the landing came the lights, and eyes, and gasps of horror as everyone in the wing gazed upon his broken, bleeding, naked body. Instantly his eyes had rolled up, and he fainted.

After the harsh drag from the floor, Draco felt the feel of someone trying to open his lips, and his jaw snapped shut. "no" he moaned, his eyes squeezed shut, his body jerking away from the person, " no…." his arms were restrained, and he struggled more, his stomach heaving from the touch, " NO" he screamed as the hands pried his mouth open, his head twisting from side to side, trying to get away. Tears leaked from his eyes, he didn't know where he was, who he was with, but they were touching him, touching him like _he_ had. "…p-please…n-n…no…." he sobbed still trying to pull away, his strength rapidly depleting, his will going along with it. Then a hot liquid was poured down his throat, and he chocked. Coughing, the arms were removed and he cuddled in on himself, rubbing his hands over where they had pinned him, sobbing over his gasps. There was a light touch to his forehead, and he slowly opened an eye to see a blurred image of someone leaning over him, and the touch came again, soft, gentle….he liked it.

"Go to sleep Draco."

So he did.

Bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood

I now regretted coming down for a dreamless sleep potion at 2 in the morning.

It hadn't even been that bad of a nightmare, just a flash of something, I barely remember now. The stone had been cold on my feet so I ran down the tower, my arms wrapped around me, my eyes closed to the feel of the air passing through my sweat drenched hair. It had been an average day, really, including the nightmare. So of course it had never crossed my mind that people would be in the hospital wing, other than a sleepy madam Pomfrey. I had strolled in through the big oak doors to be greeted with the most chaotic, bloody, scream filled room I had ever been in. People were running everywhere, voices shouted above the wails that seemed to come from a corner of the wing. No one noticed my entrance in all the disaster that was going on around them.

I was about to turn around and dash from the room before one of the many teachers in the room caught me and sent me back to the tower missing 50 house points, when I finally realized who owned the voice that was screaming bloody murder.

Malfoy.

A group of five people surrounded a small spot on the ground, and all I could see was a blood smeared leg kicking and flailing, the rest of the body was engulfed by the faculty, all trying desperately to fend of his blows and lift him at the same time. When they got him off the ground, red liquid spilled from his body onto the stone flagons, spreading wider and wider, drifting towards me till a tendril of the blood trickled under my feet, slipping between my toes. My stomach heaved.

They got him onto a bed, the sheets instantly turning scarlet.

My mind seemed disjointed; instead of taking in the whole scene I only noticed small things. Like Snape's worried frown as he wiped blood from his hands onto his robes. Like the cat in the back of the room watching with morbid fascination. Like Malfoy's eyes as they widened with pain at every touch. His fingers clenching in the fabric of the sheets beneath him. The spill of blood over the beds edge, a corner of the sheet dripping onto the floor with the scarlet liquid.

I had as flashing memory of an ER telly show that Aunt Petunia had been obsessing over a few years back. I had come into the room during the scene where the patient was going to die, his body spasming all over the place, people trying to hold him down, blood everywhere and yelling and the beeping of the muggle machines in the back ground. The patient died…

My throat clenched till my eyes watered. The blood under my feet turned cold and I stepped away, leaving small bloody foot prints.

They were trying to pry him mouth open, and his screams only became harsher, more desperate from his dying soul. My hand clenched, I need to help, no one could hear that and just stand there. He was twisting and turning from their hands, the liquid spilling all over his face, mixing with his tears.

One second I was watching the pain of his despair ripping my insides apart, the next I was at the head of the bed, gripping his head, soothing the hair back from his forehead. Cooing sounds came from my lips, mingling with my held back sobs, till tears were dripping off my face too. He buried his bloody face into my palm. I whispered something, I don't remember what and I ran my fingers through his hair again and again, till he drifted off. I didn't notice when they had made him drink the potion. I didn't notice the looks I was getting.

A hand fell on my shoulder; I jumped and swung my gaze from his now calm face to Madam Pomfrey.

"I…..I-I was just coming for a d-dreamless sleep potion… Just a…"

"I know Potter, I know."

I looked down at Malfoy again and flicked the hair away from his face, tried to rub some dried blood from his nose.

"What does the potion do?"

She removed my hands from him, and led me to another bed. A clean one. No blood.

Everyone knows that your magic tries to protect you in situations like this, Malfoy's had. There was no way we could cast any spells on him now, not while he was in such a state. But so much blood had been lost, and it was only a matter of time till the potion wore off.

"It instantly clots blood and helps in the formation of new blood cells. It's also a sedative."

She was covered in blood, her crisp white gown now smeared and decimated with the one color that always seemed so nice to me before now.

I looked down.

I was covered in it too. My Pj pants used to be a sulky grey, they now had the look as if the had been sprayed with a red dye. My small white tank top was stained too. My arms. Hands. Face. Glasses. I took them off and tried to rub the blood off the lenses, managing in only to smear the blood around.

"Oh."

"Come on Potter, lets go get cleaned up, shall we?"

Her gentle tone is what made me glance up and around, not her words. It was 2 am. I was covered in blood. There was no way I could ever go to sleep again.

"Then what?"

I didn't know my voice could sound so weird, like I was another person, not the self assured boy-who-lived.

"Then we sit and wait…" she paused, looking at Malfoy with a new found fondness, " …and hope."

I stood up, "okay."

She led me off to a bathroom where we cleaned Malfoy's blood off our skin, scrubbing till we were raw. When we came back the blood on the floor was gone, and the teachers were sitting around the room, some whispering to one another, some with their heads in their hands. I sat down on the window sill, the cat beside me. The room was quiet, to have that many people in it.

My feet itched.

Someone coughed.

I had only wanted a dreamless sleep potion.


	2. Chapter 2

(looking for a beta, cus my spelling is lacking according to many of my reviewers…)

(Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.)

(This is a revised version of my past and unfinished story _Desecrated _, this one will be updated and hopefully finished. )

(Summary :this is a revision of Desecrated. DMHP. He wanted the pain to stop, the cuts to heal, and the memory gone... The blood under my feet turned cold and I stepped away, leaving small bloody foot prints...)

Waiting

Weariness dragged at his eyes as he slouched into the small confining chair. Aches stabbed at his body, causing him to twitch, until he groaned and sat upright. Sunlight filtered through the drawn curtains and warmed the stone under his bare feet. When he sat up a blanket he didn't know was there fell off his shoulder, instantly missing the warmth it had given him. Opening his eyes proved more difficult than expected, his hand coming up to cover the offended eyes from the light. Rustling came off to the side and a hand fell onto his shoulder, causing him to jump, open his eyes and see a blurry sight of Madam Pomfrey leaning over him, a warm steaming cup of tea in her hands. Harry smiled wearily; still unsure of what was going on. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he looked around. People were asleep in chairs all over the place. The scene was picturesque; the sun light against the brilliant white of the hospital wing sheets and the way it fell and created shadows on to the beds. A smile touched his lips. The light seemed to sparkle on the pale blonde hair of the person in one of the beds, his hunched over figure almost blending in with the shinny light that engulfed them. Harry's' thoughts paused.

Oh.

Memories poured into his now awake mind as he took in the image of Malfoy curled up in the bed. The only thing that seemed to stand out in the train of thoughts was the picture of his bloody footprints on the bare cold stone floor.

Madam Pomfrey pushed the hot mug into his hands and left.

Today was going to be a very stressful day, Harry predicted as he stood up from the chair, his cramped muscles crying out as they stretched.

Today was Thursday, he had Transfiguration at 8, and yet that fact that he was going to miss it, and all his other classes today didn't seem to be such a prominent thing in his mind either.

His friends were going to worry; he had Qudditch practice that afternoon. But all that seemed to matter was the fact that he was here, waiting.

Bloodbloodbloddbloodbloodbloodblood

When lunch came around and Madam Pomfrey was fuming about being bombarded with questions from a constantly appearing duo of Ron and Hermione, Harry got kicked out of the quiet wing and was told that when something happened, they'd let him know. Of course he had already missed Transfiguration and Charms, his two easy classes; now he was left with History of Magic and Advanced Potions. Still dressed in his PJ's and small blanket, Harry made his way up to the Tower as quickly as possible, daring to hope that he didn't run into anyone on the way.

His thoughts roamed as they always did these days, and Harry found himself reflecting on Potions. How the hell he had made in into Advanced Potions was beyond his imaginings and Snapes as well. Somehow he had passed the year end tests and gotten in. As he mused over the passed years classes' one thing kept popping up. He had always been paired with Malfoy. By anyone's standards Malfoy was incredible at Potions, just as good as Snape. So when ever Harry set up to make a potion Malfoy was always there to tell him what an idiot he was and that you didn't use dried pixie wings, you used pickled pixies _with_ wings. On the joint essays he had always made sure that Harry knew everything there was to the topic, so that he didn't screw up the writing. A picture of Malfoy turning to him from a steaming cauldron with a frown on his face and a jar of something in his hands blazed a trail in his mind.

The three cups of tea tossed in his stomach at pictures of bloody hands and bruised hips. He mumbled the password, and slunk into the common room, suddenly not feeling up to going to class.

After showering and running a brush through his mass of tangled hair, Harry sank down onto his bed and looked around the room.

The room was draped in red fabric, from the curtains to the bed linens and it made his stomach heave with how close Gryffendor red was to Blood red. He flicked his wand and the fabric turned a deep forest green. His nose wrinkled in disgust, and the color changed to yellow, then blue then white. Harry shuddered at this last color, reminded of the hospital wing. He finally settled on grey, being the most neutral color he could think of. Of course his friends wouldn't be too pleased with the décor, but hopefully he could talk them around with keeping it for a few days without having to tell them why.

Bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood

Remus sank down onto a plush chair in the living room of Gordric's Hollow, a glass of Rye in one hand a newspaper in the next. Last night had to have been the most horrific night of his life since joining the Order. When he had accepted the mission he had jumped at the thought of finally being involved in action, instead of being shoved into a stuffy library and instructions that were rather sketchy in design. Now he wished for a dusty book with the title worn off. His main goal was to make sure that the Malfoy boy was okay, or at least determine what side he was on. But after searching the house with the rest of the group, and only finding layers of dust that had collected in the bedrooms, horror had built up in the pit of his stomach. It was a fact that Draco Malfoy had been picked up at Kings Cross Station by his parents and driven to Malfoy Manor. After that none of the Malfoy family had been seen for the rest of the summer, and a little into the school year, no one seen in the gardens, through the windows, not a sound came from the Castle.

Nothing.

There were no house elves, no maids, or butlers. When they came charging into the house, nothing stirred but the curtains. When everyone rejoined in the main hall and the only thing found was a couple locked doors, Remus took off on his own to find Draco.

He remembered teaching him in Draco's third year. The boy had been a right prat, Remus snorted and took a sip of the alcohol. Always a rude comment at least once a day, there was word of Harry's and his fights through out the year. But Remus remembered admiring his concentration. When he got into a subject, his face took on the look of pure curiousity. It was amazing, one class they were learning about Veela's, and Draco even raised his hand before asking a question. There wasn't a whispered snark about his being a monster, not a single glare at any of the Hufflepuff's in his class. He just sat there, reading passage after passage, so deep in the writing that he didn't notice when the bell rang.

Remus swirled the drink around in the glass, listening to how the ice clinked against the sides. Merlin, but that boy reminded him of Sirius so much. His pride, his sarcasm, his way of walking. A prickling started at the corners of his eyes and Remus threw back the drink, feeling the burn as it tracked its way down his throat.

When the thought of Draco not being there, of being dead had crossed Remus's mind, he went into a near panic, reminded of how much pain he had felt when Sirius fell through the veil and disappeared from their lives forever. The world needed people like them, so that people like him and Harry could survive.

Staring at the now empty glass, Remus felt the depression sink in yet again, dragged down by the thought of Draco's voice, horse and chocked up, saying those heartbreaking words over and over again.

Bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood

Draco could feel the warmth of the sunlight on his cheek and craved that feeling even more with every second that it touched. Eyes squeezed shut, pain ripping through his body, he revealed in the feeling of the warmth, and quiet and peace that clung to him.

His thoughts weren't all together coherent and the sounds around him were hard to hear over the ringing in his ears, but one thing he did know with out a fact, was that he was free. Free from the blasted dungeon, free from the chains, free from his father. FREE.

Good just thinking that word made his heart hurt with how much joy it brought it him. Draco felt the tears start to trickle, and opened his eyes so he could brush them away.

In a chair across from his bed, slumped over and asleep, sat Snape, one hand wrapped around the fabric of Draco's sheets. He sniffled, and brushed away a few tears a painful smile twisting his bruised and chapped lips. The pain forgotten, the future left to the side, Draco reached out and rested his hand on his godfathers hand.

"Look Severus, "he rasped out with a cough, more tears falling to wet the pillow beneath him. "… I'm finally free." A chocked laugh caught in his throat and he closed his eyes, drifting off into much needed sleep.

Bloodbloodbloobdbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood

Ron Weasley trumped up the stairs to the boys' dormitories, a heavy bag slung over his shoulder and a piece of paper clutched in his hand. "Damn it, where the hell was Harry?" He growled under his breath and he stomped over to their dorm and shoved the door open with his shoulder.

There Harry was, curled up and asleep on his bed, hair still wet from his shower. Ron snorted and dropped the bag down by his bed and went over to look at his sleeping friend. He took off Harry's glasses and set them aside on the bedside table, and pulled up a blanket to cover his shoulders. Rolling his eyes at his best friends stupidity he removed Harry's runners from his feet and put the piece of paper rolled up inside one. When Harry woke up, he'd be in for one hell of a day, Ron mused as he picked his backpack back up and left the room, making sure to close the door quietly.

Ron was halfway out the portrait hole when he paused, "isn't our room red?" The fat lady shot his a look and he waved her off, "never mind." And continued on his way.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

(This is a revised version of my past and unfinished story _Desecrated _, this one will be updated and hopefully finished. )

(it comes in two Pov. Draco's and Harry's, they are easy to tell who is who, so I'm not gonna tell you.)

Chapter Three: I Had Only Wanted…

Waking up was an unpleasant affair from the beginning. But waking up after two sleepless nights, was more than unpleasant, it was down right rotten.

"…nuuuugh... "

Rolling over onto my stomach, I buried my face into my pillow, muffling the moans of disagreement at being woken up.

"Oh! Harry, I didn't think you'd be up here."

Neville's voice was rather squeaky and a mite shocked, so I turned my head and peeked an eye open,

"Huh?"

He was standing at the doorway, twiddling his hands, "well, you missed practice so we all thought you went to your detention with Snape…"

If Neville's clumsy steps didn't wake me up that certainly did.

I jolted out of my stupor, blinking sleep from my eyes.

"What?"

"Your detention with Snape, for not going to class…. Ron was supposed to tell y- Oh, see- look a note is in your shoe."

He walked over and snatched the rolled up paper and waved it about, " guess Ron didn't want to wake you, we all know how little sleep you get…" his cheeks flushed and he stopped waving the paper as he realized what he had said. No one talked about Harry's nightly terrors. No one. It was an unspoken pact in the dorm to just wake him up when his thrashing and screaming seem life-endangering.

I had snatched the paper from his hands and was tying my shoes up before he finished his sentence.

"Thanks for waking me up Nev, see yah later."

As I passed through the doorway I heard a little squeak, "didn't we have a red room?"

Bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood

I had missed dinner, practice and half of Snape's detention. Honestly I wasn't all that up to seeing that slimy git, but I tumbled my way down to the dudgeons, sleep pulled at my head causing a rather unpleasant headache. My minds eye was sifting through some thoughts when I came across an image I was not happy to recollect. To be true I had tried desperately to burry the past nights actions, but that stunning image of my feet covered in blood, leaving blood foot prints on the stone floor, I shuddered; it was never going to leave me. Malfoy had to be doing better now, Madam Pomfrey was a miracle worker, and in a couple days he'd be up and out of my thoughts as quick as you could say 'evil git'. I knew I was fooling myself, I had already made plans to go up to the hospital wing to see him, to be honest, I was worried. God all that blood coming out of one person? Impossible.

At one of the many twists and turns you had to take to get to the Potions room, I became a bit dizzy (both from the headache and the disturbing thoughts) and tripped. Before I knew what was going on I was slammed into the wall then tipped head-over-heels down a flights of cold, hard, stone steps.

Bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood

I wanted to sit in the chair.

Honestly how hard was that?

A couple steps, sitting and oh look, I'm there.

But no, no Madam Pomfrey insisted I stayed in my bed.

"Mr. Malfoy, goodness, a few hours ago you were bleeding buckets and unconscious, magic is good but not that good!" she huffed, setting the tray she was holding down a little to hard on the side table, the metal cup rattled nosily.

"But honestly, Madam Pomfrey, it's just by the window, barely ten feet, I can walk that far I swear."

I pinched at the bread that sat mournfully on the edge of the plate. It was soaked in tea so that I could eat it easier and I don't put unneeded stress on my internal organs; or so everyone has informed me after I threw the first soggy dough ball at the house elf that had the gall to call it food.

She clicked her tongue at me and busied off, "Eat your bread Mr. Malfoy and don't even think of moving from that bed."

I sulked, mostly for appearances, but a little for not being able to move. It wasn't that I was in any great hurry to run off, or even move from the cocoon of warmth that the blankets created, but the sun was setting, light turning to a mellow orange and the trees casting a silhouette upon the hillside that peaked out behind the field that was just beside the forbidden forest. I just had to look out that window.

The chair really wasn't all that far and the sun had almost set. I couldn't miss this. I just couldn't.

I pushed up off the pillows, struggled weakly with the tightly wrapped blankets and finally made it so a drained and slightly shaky toe touched the frozen stone floor. I know it was just a sun set, something that happens every day at the same time and was rather short lived, but this wasn't a sunset. Not really. It was hard, really hard, to forget why I was here, to forget the summer. But I was doing it and I didn't care what I had to do to block the memories but I was going to forget and move on.

Ice cold fingers run along my cheek; wet, sticky hands grip my kicking shins and drag me down the bed.

I had made it to the edge of the bed, tendrils of the suns light licking at my toes. I wiggled them, feeling the warmth. No, I had to block the memories and stay strong, so that I never have to be that weak ever again.

"Draco, I'm disappointed in you, I thought you would enjoy this." A tongue runs up my cheek as I chock back nausea.

The chairs back came into my hands and I gratefully sank into the seat, turning the chair towards the window.

I just had to stay strong.

So no could ever break me again.

Bloddbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood

Professor Snape was perplexed. Pacing the length of the potions classroom, the clicking of his heels reminding you of an old grandfather clock, ticking away the time. Perhaps perplexed was the wrong word. Upset, could work, or even worried. But even those emotions did not seem to fit, for he was contemplating Potter and if there was ever an emotion that the Professor didn't feel for the wretch, it was worried.

He had assumed that this little detention would remind Potter that even if he helped in Draco's recovery it wasn't a free ticket to skip his class. The idiotic boy had stumbled across something that was so incredibly private that it was the equivalent of reading a diary or looking into someone's pensive.

Not only was the twit late, curfew would come into effect soon and no one had seen hide nor hair of the Wonder Boy. Normally this would be perfect for Snape, more punishment for the tardy hero and many more clean cauldrons in the future, but the boy had seen Draco spewing blood, dying and if there was one thing Potter didn't take well it was death.

He was pivoting on his fiftieth lap when his doors slammed open and a panicked Hufflepuff tumbled in.

"P-P-Potters unconscious on the stairs! There's b-b-blood!!!"

He stuttered out, gasping for breath.

Bloody hell.

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I remember rather clearly being picked up, but not feeling hands. I remember wondering why this didn't worry me. Cold trickled down my cheek in streaks and ran along the crease of my lips. I had felt this feeling before just a little while ago but then it hadn't been my blood, it had been Malfoys'.

I remember being startled at the thought of it being my blood.

I tried to open my eyes but that seemed too much for me and I blacked out.

I remember wondering if I was going to live, but not why.

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	4. Chapter 4

He stared at the rising and falling chest, wondering what he would do if it stopped

Chapter four: Greetings

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

(This is a revised version of my past and unfinished story _Desecrated _, this one will be updated and hopefully finished. )

(it comes in three Pov. Draco's and Harry's and Remus's, they are easy to tell who is who, so I'm not gonna tell you.)

He stared at the rising and falling chest, wondering what he would do if it stopped. Sometimes he thought it did, and those seconds stretched forever on until it gave a little hitch and rose again. That panic that clamped over his chest while he willed the chest to move made him think. What would he do, really, if he lost Harry?

Remus shoved the hair away from his face with a drunken hand, ignoring the tears that tingled the backs of his eyes. It was dark in the hospital wing and no one knew that he was there, except perhaps Malfoy who was sitting up, staring out the window, a few beds down.

He desperately wanted to grab the shoulders before him and shake them till lids opened and he got to see those forests that were Harry's eyes again. Remus breathed in and out, reminding himself that he wasn't crazy just drunk. His hands clenched in his lap, restraining himself.

What had happened? How long ago? Why? He wanted to ask but couldn't, his tongue thick with pain and scotch.

Why hadn't anyone told him?

The bandages on Harry's forehead were thick and white and he didn't know why they were there. There was something wrong with that, something entirely too unjust to just sit and ignore. Remus reached into his jacket and pulled out a flask.

The sound of the liquid brought Malfoy's gaze to him.

"If you're wondering he came in a few hours ago."

Oh gods, Remus buried his face into the sheets of Harry's bed. Flashes cascaded across his mind of Draco and blood and a heart breaking voice; manicured nails and a bed and a corpse.

"Snape carried him in, said he appeared to have fallen down the stairs."

A laugh drifted over to him, hollow and bitter.

"The Boy-Who–Lived almost died because he fell down the stairs."

Remus hissed, jerking his head up and glaring at Malfoy.

"Don't say that! Don't! Don't say he almost died, he didn't! He'll be fine in a day or so!" the lies fell into the room and he could almost see them, staring at him in shock because of his need to believe them.

Malfoy moved forward turning towards him, "what would you do Lupin, if he died? What would you do?"

More laughter.

"Drink?"

Ashamed, Remus stared down at his hands noticing the flask was still clutched in one fist. Knowing the answer almost made him hate himself. He threw the flask away, listening as it clanked and clattered against the floor. The second it left his hand he wanted it back.

"I was going to thank you for helping me, but I shall wait till you are sober." Malfoy said and sunk down into his bed and turned his back.

The sun was what ultimately woke him up. The annoying talking and shuffling and clunking of bottle's he was able to ignore but the second the light hit his eyes, consciousness slammed into him unpleasantly. He had tried to roll over only to find that very painful. He reached a weighted arm up and touched his forehead to feel cotton wrappings. He was reminded of cold running along his lips and he licked them, expecting the taste of blood.

He had fallen down the stairs on the way to detention.

A groan forced its way past his throat and he squeezed his eyes tightly, embarrassed.

"You're awake."

Harry cracked an eye open to see Malfoy leaning over him, his long pale blonde hair creating a curtain around his face. Pain stabbed into his skull through his eyes and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Unfortunately." He grumbled; then flushed, embarrassed to complain of such simple pain in front of the boy who he had watched scream with horrible pain only a few days ago.

Yet again flashes of what he had seen came to him and his feet burned with the reminder of the blood that had curled its way between his toes. Nauseas boiled inside his stomach and he jolted up. Malfoy must have been prepared because he shoved Harry's head into a bucket before he could blow chunks all over the both of their laps.

"You have a concussion and a cracked skull, also you managed to sprain your wrist, terrify a student enough to faint and scare the wits out of Professor Snape; I applaud your ability to create as much havoc unconscious as awake."

Harry's rather dignified response was a grunt and a shrug along with an elegant collapse back onto the pillows.

Harry could still feel the presence of a hovering Malfoy and blushed under the scrutiny.

"Is there something on my face?" he snapped, but it held no true emotion. The thought of being angry at Malfoy, Draco, drew no pleasure as it used to; now it made him guilty for having such vile thoughts towards one who had suffered so much.

"Actually," Malfoy said tilting his chin up haughtily, "there is some puke on your chin."

Even though his comment was said in a snotty attitude Harry felt him reach over and gently wipe his chin clean.

"Thanks…" he mumbled. Feeling his headache start to recede he pushed himself up to a sitting position and opened his eyes, looking around. He was shocked to see Remus slumped over in a chair beside the bed, passed out.

Malfoy saw him staring and his eyes softened, "you really scared him, you should apologize when he awakens." His tone was gentle and careful, not something Harry had ever heard from Malfoy before and he blinked at him in shock.

The stench of the bucket drifted over to him and he wrinkled his nose in distaste, "why hasn't the garbage been vanished?" he asked. Everything in the hospital wing was spell bound, from the self closing blinds, to the sleep spell on every pillow.

Malfoy's eyes became downcast and he moved off the bed and gently moved to sit on the bed beside them, "my magic has reacted violently to every spell within 30 feet of me, so the whole Wing had to be un-charmed."

Harry averted his eyes and shuddered. To be that deeply wounded that your magic is still on panic mode… even his dreams didn't show such horrors.

"Oh"

"Yes," Malfoy said, standing up and walking slowly towards a chair in front of the window, "oh. The rest of the golden trio should be coming by soon, classes ended five minutes ago." He said, the end of the conversation apparent in his tone.


End file.
